


Phantom of the Supernatural

by Bioluminescent



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Crossover, Kitsune, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:11:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminescent/pseuds/Bioluminescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles lets his voice quiet, holding out the last note just barely, his rich voice echoing through the auditorium. Ben and the judges just stare at him and he starts to shift nervously again, his fingers flicking about his body, tapping his thigh, running through his hair, fingering the cuff of his sleeve, and he opens his mouth again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy it, please tell me if there are any mistakes that I can improve this with and don't be afraid to comment. This is created for personal enjoyment and not profit.

Shaking his head in disgust, Stiles shoves Scott and Allison out of his dorm room door, slamming it in their faces. Not that they would be polite enough to even notice. They're too busy sucking face to care. But Stiles has enough to worry about because today is the first practice of his show choir.  
He shakes out the thick paper, rereading what he has already memorized. Eight o'clock, northwest green wing, third floor auditorium, bring nothing but yourself and your voice and possible muscle.  
Stiles runs shaky fingers through his overgrown hair, nervously tapping his other hand against his thigh. Brown eyes glance at an orange medication bottle on a dresser, long legs striding toward it quickly. He snatches it and shakes one pill out, scowling down at the Adderall in his palm before swallowing it down, wincing as it scratches his dry throat. He stares at the clock, trying to sit still on the edge of his bed, but soon getting up and pacing the length of his and Scott's room, chewing at his lip.  
When the clock reads seven forty-five, Stiles grabs his favorite Beacon Hills lacrosse sweatshirt and flees out the door. Thankfully, Scott and Allison seemed to have taken the hint to go and make out somewhere else and left. He zips it up, waving a friendly hello to the student guard, flashing his ID in her direction. She just gives him a wave back mouthing good luck to him. He just grins stupidly at her before turning and jogging lightly down the asphalt path.  
Northwest green wing. Third floor auditorium.  
Stiles makes it just in time for the last wave of people to enter the auditorium with him. He looks around before taking a seat at the left side of the auditorium, mostly empty except for a couple of people who just glare at him. Making his way through the various seats, he finds a comfortable looking corner that is quiet and well out of the way of any pre-game drama that is most likely to happen. In the short wait, Stiles takes the opportunity to survey his competition and future family.  
The head girl clique is sitting right in front of the stage, a strawberry blonde laughing and swishing her hair back and forth, amusing her minions. Stiles notices that she behaves slightly detached from them, watching over her peasants like a queen. She shoots a look his way, her eyebrow raised as if to say, such stupid little things aren't they? Stiles barely notices the wink she shoots at him as she turns away as one of the jocks behind her taps her on the shoulder.  
Stiles watched him next, noting the rugged cheekbones, the inherited swagger of a rich kid and the way he cocks his head when looking around at everybody else but the strawberry blonde in front of him.  
The others that Stiles notes are hardly worth remembering except for the one group of males that get kicked out for being too rowdy. Not long after, the lights dim and a lone figure steps out on stage.  
"For not nearly my entire life, I have dreamed of when we two would be together so sweetly. When both would leave behind our sorrows and pledge ourselves to each other whole fully and without anything to shield our eyes and true feelings. Believe me, please you must," the woman struggles wildly as a tall male comes out and grasps her arm, pulling her to the left wing. "No Father! We love each other! No! Please!" Sobbing wildly, she rips her arm from his grasp and runs across the stage to the other wing, sobbing as she collapses against someone.  
Stiles looks at the performance, appreciating the way they commit themselves to their characters as if the person they are wrapping around their shoulders is their actual being, and not some person they are pretending to be.  
He watches as performance after performance is put on for the hopefuls, each and every one of them gasping at each heartbreaking or adventurous scene. One male/female pair even goes as far as to make out on stage, the male pinning the female to a bale of hay, slotting in the vee of her legs. After Stiles hand falls asleep for the second time, the curtains close and reopen, revealing a very small cast of actors.  
Furrowing his brows, Stiles quickly counts seven females and eight males, three of which are stepping forward clutching hands.  
The tallest of the three steps forward and says in a clear tenor voice, "Now, we will make this clear here and now. We are a very small group of people as you can see, and we will not be able to take on all one hundred of you here. At most, we will only be able to take on fifteen." With a flash of teeth, he steps back and motions forward the more handsome of the three, his jawline a stark contrast to his crooked nose.  
"Lesson number one. You must always agree to what you are asked to do for a performance, even if it includes gay kissing or some slight groping. Watch closely." And with that, he grabs the waist of the taller male, pulling themselves flush, and tilting his head up just enough so when the taller male leans down, their lips meet.  
Stiles looks around to see how some people will act to this, and watches, unsurprised, as about half the crowd leaves. His eyes flick over to the jock, and his eyebrows crinkle in amusement as he watches him taking notes.  
The two men are still at it when Stiles turns back, the shorter having wrapped his legs around the others waist, their clothes and hair thoroughly mused. They break apart with an almost pornographic pop, both smiling in amusement at the array of faces before them.  
"Now then, all of you," the third man points his finger at the general populace of people, "you shall all go outside, wait until your name is called, and then you shall audition for us. All clear? Good, let's get this party started." And with a rubbing of his hands, he turns back to his small group, talking loudly to them all. Stiles takes that as a dismissal and gets up, walking to the hall outside of the auditorium, sliding down the cement wall to sit on the floor under a small window.  
He fights a small smile when he hears the man shouting, "Do none of you understand that was a dismissal? Leave! We don't want you here right now. Location, location, location. Now beat it!"  
.  
The minutes go by slowly, all the hopefuls wandering through their minds for amusement, trying to distract themselves from the strange feeling of nerves.  
Four people so far have already had panic attacks, and only one when her name was called. Triple that number have started bawling, their tears dripping onto the cold floor in dark circles, feet and hands smearing them into long broken lines. Stiles has forced himself to stay still, something that takes up his entire concentration. When he has forced himself into a mind aware but body deafened daze, he finally looks up, shocked to see only fifteen people left.  
Deep in his thoughts, Stiles doesn't notice that his name has been called until the strawberry blond(who introduced herself as Lydia with another small wink) nudges him with her elbow.  
He looks up to see the tallest man beckoning him forward with a smile. Stiles slowly gets up, stretching his fingers and arms carefully, his entire body stiff. The man gives him a knowing look and holds the door open for him, breathing down his neck. Stiles fights back a shiver and continues to walk slowly, his legs warming up gradually and he watches a girl on stage bursting into tears.  
He can tell that they are not faked, but she is actually crying in earnest and one of the males in the group gently takes her by the arms murmuring, "You can always come back next year and try. You have a beautiful voice, don't give up on what you dream." They walk by Stiles and he is distracted as the tall guy hands him a pamphlet with "The Phantom of the Opera" plastered across the front, the name Raoul in italics below the bolded letters.  
"Look over it a couple of times. I trust you have seen the movie right? The one with Andrew Llyod Webber ?" At Stiles' nod, he continues. "Good. We might have you sing, so don't be too worried. Unless Amelia comes out. She can be a bitch when she's judging. Well good luck, we'll call you'll up when we're ready."  
Stiles sits down, stretching his long frame as much as he can in the cramped seats, wincing as he aggravates a bruise on his ribs. That might be a problem. But Stiles takes this as a moment to actually do as he is told and look over the pamphlet. Soon enough, he has read the entire thing twice through and the judges are consulting each other.  
"Stiles Stillinksi on the stage please." The tall guy calls, winking at him when he passes the table in front of the stage. Stiles can clearly tell that they are all waiting for the loud thud of his footsteps, but all they get is him walking across the stage calmly, almost near silent, but one of his toes taps on a nail, clicking quietly. Their eyebrows raise slightly and Stiles shifts nervously, not used to so many eyes on him at once.  
"So um, what are your names so I'm not calling you tall guy and blond chick in my head?"  
Stiles knows who the blond chick is though. Erica just winks at him when he looks at the member of his pack, trying to imagine the shy epileptic girl in the place of the bold outspoken one in front of him now.  
The tall guy laughs loudly at that, standing from his seat. "That blond chick at the end is Erica, the brunette is Amelia, there is Jack, Andrew, and Hamie," he gestures at each person as he says their name and they give a little nod so Stiles can locate them easily. "And I, of course, am Ben, the great and fabulous, the-" Erica cuts in sharply.  
"Narcissistic and rich, and naturally, the president of this club. Get on with it Ben, we can't just have Stiles standing here all night."  
Ben just laughs again, a laugh deep in his throat, causing Stiles to fight back a shiver at the guttural sound. Too many things have laughed at him while trying to kill him thank you very little. Erica gives him a knowing look, her eyes flicking down to his ribs where he bruised them against a tree.  
"Now then," Ben says loudly, jerking Stiles' eyes to his face, "Stiles, will you please do act three, part four? Just Raoul's parts please. You may pause for a moment or two before continuing, start when ready."  
Stiles nods his head, flipping to the page and skimming it quickly, he begins.  
After that, Ben stands and reads out another part, telling Stiles he will read Christine's part and Stiles will read Raoul's. They read through that, Stiles becoming more and more relaxed as the audition goes on, his voice molding to his character wonderfully, his stance comfortable, and he gestures with his hands as if he is the one formulating the words on the page. Erica gives Stiles an impressed look and an encouraging smile.  
"Good, good. Now then that should be all, you are free-"  
Amelia stands up, interrupting Ben.  
"Please turn to act five, part two. I shall sing Christine, you will of course sing Raoul, now then, let us begin."  
Ben raises his eyebrows at Amelia's request but nods his head when Stiles looks at him questioningly. Noticing Amelia's impatience, he quickly turns to the page, clearing his throat and nodding towards Amelia.  
She breathes deeply, her ribs expanding and she begins to sing. Stiles realizes that she is warming up and he just hums a pitch in his throat, shifting up slightly to match the key signature. When Amelia is done warming up she nods in his direction.  
Stiles buries his nerves deep inside him and breathes in a couple of times before taking his first singing breathe. He feels everybody staring at him and he begins.

"No more talk of darkness  
forget these wide-eyed fears  
I'm here, nothing can harm you  
My words will warm and calm you

Let me be your freedom  
Let daylight dry your tears  
I'm here, with you, beside you  
To guard you and to guide you"

Amelia almost misses her entrance, she is too busy staring at Stiles. She starts when he just raises an eyebrow at her, and looks down at the script. Erica is staring at him open mouthed, definitely not expecting her human to sing this prettily.  
Amelia raises her voice into a sweet soprano warble and sings.

"Say you'll love me every waking moment  
Turn my head with talk of summer time  
Say you need me with you now and always  
Promise me that all you say is true  
That's all I ask of you"

They sing back and forth the next few verses and she sits down as Stiles starts what is apparently his last stanza.

"Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime  
Let me lead you from your solitude  
Say you need me with you here, beside you  
Anywhere you go, let me go too  
Christine, that's all I ask of you"

Stiles lets his voice quiet, holding out the last note just barely, his rich voice echoing through the auditorium. Ben and the judges just stare at him and he starts to shift nervously again, his fingers flicking about his body, tapping his thigh, running through his hair, fingering the cuff of his sleeve, and he opens his mouth again.  
"Did I do something wrong? Should I leave?" The quiet way in which he speaks, as if it is to a injured animal and not five people in college, seems to shake at least Ben out of his shock.  
"Holy hell, did you take lessons?"  
When Stiles shakes his head, Ben jumps over the table and bounds onto the stage, gripping Stiles' shoulders. He shakes him gently, seeing the look in Stiles' eyes, as if he is about to bolt, and shakes his head in amazement.  
"Did you ever go to somebody with singing experience?" Stiles nods his head.  
"Who?" Stiles jerks slightly out of his embrace, looking at the ground.  
"My mother. She died a year after she first heard me singing."  
Ben chokes out a gasp, and continues questioning Stiles, using the same voice when Stiles asked hi if he did something wrong.  
"She would have been proud. They way that you held that resonance, the way you looked at Amelia, it was as if you had already been given the part and you where performing in front of a packed audience. And the way that you held your emotion in the singing, it was as if you actually where Raoul, and if you where actually in love with Christine Daae." He gestures at the thunderstruck Amelia, her mouth slightly open. Erica smacks her on the arm and Amelia glowers at her, rubbing her hand on her arm. "Even she didn't expect such a warm and marvelous voice out of you. But with the way you enunciate all your words, I should not have been that surprised."  
"And he couldn't have been lip sinking either." A voice calls out. Stiles looks over Ben's shoulder, craning his neck to see Lydia.  
Ben turns, slinging his arm over Stiles' shoulders.  
"And why not? It seemed like it to me." He says coldly.  
With an equally cold, if not colder smile, Lydia gets up from her seat and strides up the aisle flashing her phone at them. Erica growls just under her breath at Ben, glad that Lydia is now here to back Stiles up.  
"Why that's easy, I had Danny shut off all the electricity going to the audio speakers and transmitters as soon as you were done with the microphone. Duh." And with a click of a button, she plays the entire call from a recording.  
Stiles recognizes Danny's deep pitch and Lydia's bossy tone, along with the familiar clicks of Danny's laptop keys. And sure enough, Lydia has made sure to subtly bring up Danny's past. The judges look shocked at her and the way she shows them the proof.  
"And if your not convinced, then just bring him to the chorus room and make him sing. There are no outlets over there and there is a metal detector to the entrance of the building."  
And that is exactly what they do, Lydia in tow. Ben never loosens his grip around Stiles' shoulders, occasionally giving his shoulder a squeeze. The other hopefuls look up when they all walk out of the auditorium, Amelia telling them to shut it, they are taking a quick break.  
Stiles shivers in the cool night air and Ben gives him another squeeze, his body heating one side of Stiles' body. They walk into the music building, making Stiles go through the doors alone before they all follow him to the chorus room.  
"How do you know the way?" Amelia eyes him suspiciously.  
He scoffs and sings, "Because, the chorus room has wonderful acoustics and these are best for tenors." And in proof, his voice seems to swell ridiculously well, his throat expanding, and the rich baritone he can sometimes get rumbles out.  
"Holy crap. We need to do a range check. Like, now." Erica shoves everyone out of the room except for Stiles and Lydia.  
"Sing as low as you can right now." At her order, Stiles ducks his chin slightly and expands his throat as much as he can, singing out a note so low for a tenor even he is impressed.  
"Now then, sing chromatically as high as you can. You can slur, I don't care."  
Stiles once again sings as low as he can, gradually singing higher and higher, not risking to take a breath until the middle of his range. Erica is about to speak when he starts singing again, going for the top of his register. She stares, open mouthed while Lydia just looks on smugly, having heard Stiles sing before. Stiles goes as high as he can before he starts to screech.  
He sees the shock on Erica's face and he splays his hand weakly and says, "Surprise?"  
"Holy. Fucking. Shit. If they don't recruit you, then they are high. That's all I can say. This audition is over, you can go to your dorm or whatever." Erica steps forward and grasps his hand, staring him in the eye. "It would be good to see you in a different pack Stiles. A new human family. Well, mostly human." And with friendly grins, Stiles, Lydia and Erica all walk out of the chorus room in friendly camaraderie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Teen Wolf or Phantom of the Opera. Let me go and cry now.

When Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Lydia and himself all graduated from high school, they all decided to go to the exact same college. Stiles was skeptical at first, but everybody wanted to go and Derek told him it was good for them all to go to the same college.  
With all the knowledge bestowed upon him by his buddies, Stiles felt as if he was ready for anything. He was out of Beacon Hills and away from most supernatural attacks that used to occur daily. Ever since Peter had bitten Scott, Stiles had sort of wished it was all some sort of trick of his subconscious or an elaborate prank.  
He woke up when the pack formed. With him in it. As a major part.  
Stiles wasn't sad or angry that he was part of the pack or anything, he just realized that he was even more sucked into all this werewolf stuff than before with just Scott. He built up friendly relationships with Isaac and a little one with Jackson, he got to have video game nights with Boyd and Scott, he and Erica formed a relationship that surprised everybody around, including Derek.  
Erica and Stiles were like siblings, Erica being the elder more responsible sister and Stiles being the annoying little brother with ADD. But whenever they got into a fight, whether it be vocal or physical, they ended up laughing against each other, entangled on the floor.  
But back to the point. Stiles had built up a relationship with everybody in the pack and had even convinced Scott to become a member of the pack, even if he was an alpha or whatever. Even Allison appreciated having a place in the pack, even though she wasn't an actual member. She brought popcorn and junk food to the movie nights Stiles had created for bonding time. The only person that tried to push Stiles away was Derek. Everybody was protective of him whenever they got into fights together, and Erica and Isaac always snuggled with him after he or Derek walked out, deflated.  
Peter would sometimes come to the movie nights and sulk in a corner before Stiles shoved him onto the couch one time and made Derek sit next to him on the love seat. Whenever one of the tried to get up he would growl at them, baring his teeth until they sat back down.  
But Stiles always felt left out of the pack, a brick wall hanging in between him and the others. He was just the pet human who was too stubborn to leave when told, subsequently getting hurt and saving lives. Naturally.  
Stiles was convinced they didn't need him until Peter decided to prove a point.  
Stiles was walking home from Derek's after a long winded fight, telling Scott he could drive home in his Jeep. He was kicking rocks into a small stream when Peter was walking beside him, silently watching him. So naturally Stiles babbled until Peter slammed him up against a tree, his claws and fangs out, eyes flashing. He had just stared, too shocked to even move as Peter took his other hand and threaded his fingers in Stiles' overgrown hair and tilted his head back.  
When he realized what was going to happen, Peter set his fangs against his neck and he felt a flash of panic and started to struggled. Peter had just pushed his fangs into his skin, creating little indents and cutting off his struggle. Seconds later, Stiles was being cradled in Erica's lap, both of them being protected by Isaac, Boyd and Scott as Derek faced off with his uncle. They snarled at each other before Peter bowed his head and Derek shifted, stalking over to Stiles and Erica. Stiles stared at Derek in abject terror, his breathe quickening as he clutched at Erica's arm wrapped around his chest.  
Derek dropped down to his knees in front of them and with a wary glance at Erica, hesitantly leaned forward and hugged Stiles. It was then that Stiles knew he had won and was now bonding with his alpha, so he hugged back.  
And that is how Stiles and the rest if his pack figured out that Derek is a softy and is possessive.  
.  
Scott is laying in his bed reading a book when Stiles walks into their room.  
He flips onto his stomach, putting down the book and giving Stiles a look before jumping up with a crow and entangling him in a Scott style hug.  
"How'd it go?"  
Stiles snorts and sits on the edge of his bed. "As if you did not already know. You knew when we went to the chorus room and Lydia started talking."  
Scott gives him innocent puppy dog eyes full force and gets a face full of pillow. He bats it away, his muffled curses still floating dimly up.  
The wall next to them is banged a couple of times and they both hear Erica shouting, "Scott, stop picking on him! He deserves what he got so piss off!"  
"Love you too Erica." Scott raises his voice over the complaints of the other roommates down the hall. Snarling like a feral cat, Scott shoves Stiles onto his bed hissing, "Stay down. Don't move."  
Immediately Stiles freezes at the voice that has saved his life a couple of times and watches through barely slitted eyes as Scott jumps into his own bed and pretends to be asleep. Soon enough, Stiles finds out why Scott pulled out his commanding voice.  
Their locked door shudders for a moment and the door knob shakes as their TA opens the door to check on them. His face peeks around the corner of the door, narrowing his eyes as he looks at the two still bodies comfortable in their beds.  
"Are you guys messing with me or what?" He narrows his eyes even more as Stiles shifts slightly at his voice, opening an eye a crack.  
"Go 'way. Sleeping moron." At the sound of Stiles' sleepy voice, the TA winces and apologizes, creeping backwards out of the room and closing the door with a grimace. Scott warily raises his head from his pillow when he knows the senior is well out of range.  
“Good. He's gone. Now then...”  
The sight of Stiles completely unconscious on his bed makes Scott smile and pull the blanket that was kicked down to the bottom of the bed up and over his friend.  
.  
Stiles pushes his face further into his pillow when the sun sneaks through the curtains, the warm, golden light washing over his face. But then he remembers that Scott had bought blackout curtains as a precaution whenever they might want to sleep in on the weekends. A near silent shuffle of a sneaker alerts Stiles to somebody else in the room. Because of the way the only sound the person makes is the swishing of their cloths, means the person is not a human, but a werewolf.  
He knows that Scott is not the one creeping around their room because his muffled snores reach the edge of Stiles' hearing range. Heartbeat regular, Stiles refuses to let it reach a higher level and let himself panic and instead shifts in his bed, grunting slightly as he moves. The intruder freezes at the sudden movement and Stiles feels around for the cool shaft beside his bed.  
Before the intruder can act from beside the top of Stiles' bed, he has leaped out of the warm blankets and on top of the muscled back of the man. He hears a familiar snarl and pokes the point of his thin sword between the shoulder blades beneath him.  
“Scott. Wake up.”  
“Why?”  
“Hmmm, let me think.” Stiles squeezes his thighs tighter around the thick waist he is straddling and rolls his eyes. “Because there is a creepy dude in our room trying to kill us.” Stiles smiles as Scott bounces up from his bed and lands in a crouch, snarling at the man Stiles has pinned beneath him. “Although, I never thought that Derek would give up this easily in a fight.”  
Standing up with his weapon still poking Derek in the back, Stiles nudges him in the ribs with his foot, feeling the chuckle as Derek's back rises and falls against the point of his katana.  
“So dude, what are you doing here anyway? I had thought you got over your entire I-am-a-twenty-something-year-old-man-who-enjoys-stalking-young-people-like-a-serial-killer ways.”  
Stiles hears Scott snort as Derek turns around under him, glaring.  
“Naw, he was just trying to get into your good side so when he became dejected from all the rejections he'd gotten, he would come to you for some hugs.” Thud. “That was completely uncalled for and you know it. Your hugs are amazing.”  
Derek raises an eyebrow, still not saying anything due to the sharp point still resting against his chest.  
Rolling his eyes, Stiles replies, “Scotty, my man, I know my hugs are amazing, that was for smashing my bruised nose, that has just healed from being broken against a tree, against my pillow. And, you not only did that, you single handedly managed to pull my stitches on my ribs. See?” Angry now, Stiles pulls up his shirt, flashing a slightly swollen, stitched up gash in Scott's direction, blood slowly trickling from the bottom corner. Scott cringes as he takes in the damage he made. At the sight of this, Derek pushes himself up and runs his hands down Stiles' bare sides, pressing his giant palm against the skin next to the grisly wound. His usually dark and heavy eyes latch onto Stiles' brown ones and he sees something different. A sad, broken look that is barely there before Stiles pulls his shields around them and forces them to be light.  
“It's kind of unfair you know.”  
Raising his eyebrow, Derek starts to pull pain. “What is unfair? Practically everything we do is unfair to you Stiles.”  
“Well duh, you guys are werewolves. But what is unfair is that you always seem to end up doing the magic fingers during the week and then the teachers end up thinking I'm high or drunk or something.”  
“Stiles.”  
“What?”  
Derek waits before the dizziness accompanied with the black veins disappears before replying.  
“Today is Saturday.”  
At Stiles' open look of astonishment, Scott, who has risen from his crouch to lean against his desk, bursts into laughter. When Stiles twirls around and grabs his pillow, Scott raises his hands to protect his face from another attack of the fluffy death. Derek quickly releases his hands form Stiles' sides, Stiles noticeably shivering from the absent warmth. But what neither him or Scott was expecting was the flurry of blows from behind and above.  
“Erica? What-” thump.  
“Isaac, you dirty little...”  
“Boyd, if you would not mind getting Stiles for me seeing as I am covered in Erica and Isaac.”  
At Derek's alpha order, Stiles yelps and jumps out the window. Boyd looks over his shoulder, his hands resting on the sill and at Derek's indignant yelp as Erica jabs him in the stomach, chuckles and starts his chase.  
“Scott, you don't have anybody on you, help me go and get Stiles.”  
Scott shrugs before he picks up Isaac and throws him out the window after Boyd and smiles at the loud shouts and curses. He looks up as Erica is thrown into the hallway, the door slammed in her snarling face and watches as Derek straightens up, his breath heaving.  
A nasty smile washes over his otherwise, mostly gentle face, Derek grabs Scott by the back of the shirt, “Come on. Stiles is going to regret this.”  
.  
Running about as fast as he can, Stiles does not look behind him because he knows from experience it will just slow him down. And you want as much speed as possible when running away from werewolves. Instead, he focuses with his other senses as much as he can and closes his eyes.  
Footsteps speeding toward him on his right warn him to stop abruptly. From the sound of the snarl, Isaac is in front of him and Boyd is coming up behind him in a classic werewolf cut-off maneuver. Lucky for Stiles he has researched every move in fighting and guerrilla tactics. So when he feels a rush of air to his left, he jumps up and over Boyd trying to tackle legs that are not there. A shot of pain shoots up his side when he lands, his ribs getting jarred from the impact. When the fresh scent of tar reaches his nose, Stiles opens his eyes to see himself running very close to the edge of a new road, the yellow police tape reminding him of his father and his job.  
A flash of brown hair jolts him back to life and he watches as Isaac comes ever closer, a triumphant grin on his face.  
“Nice, day for a walk is it not Isaac?” Stiles ducks as a tree branch almost hits him in the face, ignoring Isaac's snicker.  
“Yeah, tell that to Derek and Scott. Oh look, Erica is finally joining the chase. Hi Erica! He is over here!”  
Biting back a swear, Stiles watches as Erica runs on the other side of newly lain tar, her eyes locked on her target. Isaac comes up right beside Stiles and makes as if to shove him into the tar. Whipping out his wooden training stick, Stiles hits the back of Isaac's knees, following up with a duck as a fist goes for his head and a hit to the stomach, hard enough to make Isaac fall.  
“You where not expecting that, now where you?” Isaac yelps as he hits the ground, Stiles and Erica speeding away from him.  
“Now all I have to worry about is Erica, Scott, and Derek. Thank god for the once-you-hit-the-ground-you-are-out rule, I don't have to worry about Isaac or Boyd.” Stiles mutters under his breath, slipping the long practice stick into his back sheath, the smooth wood like silk in his grip.  
Erica suddenly appears in front of him and he jumps over her, but she anticipates his move and grabs him around the waist, pulling him down on top of her. As she lays stunned, Stiles scrambles off of her and starts his race pace back up again, listening for the tell-tale snarl of Derek Hale as he leaps on his prey. But it never comes as Stiles races around various dorm rooms and lecture halls, his breath starting to wheeze.  
He is so taken up on concentrating for supernatural abilities he does not notice the group of kids coming out of a lecture and bowls half of them over.  
“Sorry!” Stiles yells over his shoulder, watching as Ben picks himself up and dusts his jeans off with a practiced flick of his hand. “Shit...” He falters in his pace as Ben looks straight at him with a confused look on his face, his attractive eyebrows collecting in his forehead. An idea goes off in Stiles' head and he races back to where Ben is standing.  
“Hey,” Stiles bends over, one hand on Ben's shoulder, the other bracing his body against his knee. “Do you have any other classes today?”  
Ben's confusion grows. “No. Why?”  
“Thank god. Do you mind if we went on a walk. I want to ask you something.”  
Ben just raises an eyebrow, ignoring the giggles from his friends behind him. “Alright. I know a good place for a private walk.” And before Stiles can say anything, Ben grabs his hand and pulls him into a path in the woods, neatly concealed by a boulder.  
“Whoa, where are we going?”  
Ben turns around at the sound of Stiles' confusion and smiles. “On a private walk like you wanted.”  
“Uh, yeah. Let's go.” Stiles once again is focusing his senses to be ready for a surprise attack by his pack, letting the warmth of Ben's palm lead him through the woods.  
Ben squeezes his hand as they come out into a small clearing next to a slow flowing river, moss covering the wet rocks. Open mouthed, Stiles completely forgets everything he was focusing on, not noticing the way an auburn tail flicks the ground behind Ben. The quiet burbling of the stream creates a natural white noise, blocking out any sound in the woods around them.  
“Where are we?”  
At Stiles' soft question, Ben stops staring at his face and smiles gently. “Well, about three miles behind the biology hall.”  
Whirling away from the stream, Stiles stares at Ben incredulously. “Three? Three? Wow. Three. Fuck. I am going to die. Dammit.”  
Concerned in the way that Stiles' breathing has become panicked, Ben steps forward, a hand outstretched. Stiles falls to his knees, hyperventilating, his hand coming up and resting against his collarbone, one falling to the ground as he becomes dizzy.  
Alarmed now, Ben falls to his knees beside Stiles and wraps his arms around him, laying Stiles' head on his shoulder and rubs his hand up and down his heaving back. Murmuring soothingly, Ben runs a hand through Stiles' hair, relishing at the way his hair is soft like feathers, slight pinpricks between his fingers.  
From behind the biology hall, Derek and his pack shoot to their feet as they sense an elevated heartbeat in the woods.  
“Stiles.” The snarl bursts out of Derek's lips before he can stop it and begins the trek with his entire pack behind him.  
.  
The fuzzy cloud that had surrounded his head slowly dissipates as Stiles becomes aware of a hand carding through his hair. Lips press to the top of his head as he shifts, an arm tightening around his waist. The ground beneath him is soft with moss and he cracks open an eye when he feels soft fur brush against the back of his hand. Pushing himself up with a blush already creeping over his cheekbones, Stiles is not expecting who is comforting him.  
The content face of Ben looks up at him, the chips of sharp emerald that are his eyes laughingly stare at Stiles, his hair mussed up. When Stiles tries to push himself to his feet, Ben grunts and sits up, his hand pressing against the small of Stiles' back. Aware of the intimate position they are both in, Stiles begins to panic slightly and pushes himself all the way to his feet, ripping himself from Ben's embrace. Stiles paces around the clearing, running a hand through his already messed up hair, leaves being knocked out by his fingers.  
Startling badly when Ben stands up, Stiles stares at him, his eyes running up and down his lithe body. Jeans fitting snugly to his thighs, a shirt rucked up around his waist, revealing a trim and muscled strip of skin and the top band of boxers. Stiles continues to look his way up Ben, taking in the broad shoulders and one arm up, a hand resting on the top of his head, rubbing dirt out. When Stiles makes his way up to Ben's face, he meets startling green eyes, and his head immediately goes fuzzy.  
Stiles remembers one time back in Beacon Hills when a rogue witch had tried to take over his mind so he could kill his pack for her. And he recognizes the same exact fuzziness in his head now. He shakes his head violently, his hands coming up to grasp the sides, his eyes squeezed closed.  
“Now, Stiles. Look at me.” Stiles fights against the smooth voice above him, scrunching his eyes closed even tighter, when a warm hand grasps his chin, pulling his head up. “Look. At. Me. Now.”  
Stiles flinches at the power in his voice and opens his eyes slowly, once again shocked at Ben's appearance. The same body, the same face, the same soul and energy, but now, there are two things that puzzle Stiles.  
Soft red ears with white tips sprout out of Ben's head, the cone-shaped triangles twitching when noises beyond Stiles' own hearing are heard. A long whip-like tail with the same coloring as the ears swishes back and forth behind Ben, the leaves being pushed aside. The last thing that Stiles notices is the way Ben's eyes have changed. The pupils have elongated into ovals, the feline eyes staring at him with the same bright green as normal.  
He gasps, momentarily forgetting the fuzziness in his head for a moment as he gasps out, “Were-cat.”  
Ben chuckles, elongated canines flashing in front of Stiles' eyes. At the appreciative glance at his ears, Ben purrs deep in his throat and pulls Stiles straight up, releasing his hold on Stiles' mind for a moment.  
“Not everybody I meet gets to the same conclusion as quickly but close enough. That may also be why you smell like wolf. Ugh. They give me hives whenever I smell them. Must be why I don't like Erica...” He bursts out laughing, pushing Stiles up against him and grasping his mind once again with his. “Oh, you sneaky little thing. You are part of a wolf pack aren't you? Oh, that is just precious.” With a sudden change from cold to loving, Ben continues, “But, I'm lonely, they have more than enough for each other don't you think?” Stiles gasps as if his entire head had just been shoved into a bucket filled with ice water, and wriggles in Ben's grasp, reaching up to grab his wrists with his hands. “No? Well I'm going to make you think they have enough. Do none of them love you? With me I will love you as much as I am capable. You will be the envy of every human and some other weres too. You will not be left behind or ordered around because you are too weak to do anything like kill a dragon.”  
While Ben has been talking, he has been slowly walking forward, his hands cradling Stiles' face gently. He presses Stiles up against a wide tree, leaning forward until his thin lips brush Stiles' full ones. When Stiles closes his eyes again, he just chuckles and slides one hand from the side of his face down to his waist, instead sliding his fingers up inside Stiles' shirt, splaying his hand against his pectoral, kneading it with his fingers and palm. Getting the reaction of a gasp, Ben smiles lovingly and dips his head down to the juncture of neck and shoulder and places his mouth on the writhing skin. Long fingers grasp Ben's waist as he bites hard, his canines still out, a moan escaping Stiles' lips.  
Hot blood starts to stream down pale skin, a pink tongue gently lapping at the wound, hand lightly running over clenching abdominals and smoothing over warm skin, laughing as when Stiles tries o push away, he instead manages to pulls Ben closer.  
But what Ben does not expect was the way Stiles pulls him closer. Stiles ducks his head and rests it against Ben's shoulder gasping out words to the warm pliant flesh. He digs his fingertips into Ben's sides hard enough to make the were-cat wince in pain.  
“Wait.” The human gasps out. “There is...a knot behind my head and it hurts like a mother.” Before Ben can do anything, Stiles has reached behind his head and moved the knot aside, pulling with it his practice sword. Ben snarls as it hits him on the side of the head, causing the world to sway sickeningly beneath his feet. Stiles rains blows down on Ben, focusing mostly on incapacitating than anything else. Ben must sense his slight hesitations when his head comes into view because he immediately takes charge and tackles Stiles to the ground. Stiles shouts as his ribs are, once again, knocked about, the stitches complaining loudly.  
Immediately, some weight is taken off his chest and slides down to his hips, soft hands running down to the hem of his shirt, gently lifting it up. Stiles glares down at Ben as he hisses his sympathy at the swollen wound on his side, his fingers lightly tracing the edges. Stiles swears as Ben presses harder down on the wound, his nails tugging at the stitches.  
Suddenly, a foreboding voice echoes across the clearing and splinters Ben's focus of taking over Stiles' mind. “Step away from our human, or be prepared to get killed very slowly.”  
Before Ben can turn toward the voice, Stiles gasps out, “Bitch-witch.”  
Isaac comes out of nowhere, tackling Ben off of Stiles and gentle hands slide under his shoulders, pulling him over to the edge of the clearing, a smooth handle being pressed into his hand. Stiles opens his eyes as one of the same hands pushes his shirt down to his hips, staring straight at Derek's dark and stormy face, Erica howling near Isaac.  
“Were-cat. Witch powers. Creepy bastard. Go and detain him while I try to stand up. Oh, hi Scott.” Stiles distractedly waves at his friend as he sprints across the clearing with a very large stick in his hands.  
Shaking his head, Derek smooths the hair on the top of Stiles' head before saying, “Don't do anything that stupid. You know how Erica gets if anybody hurts you.”  
With a mischievous glint in those rum colored eyes that Derek has grown to love so much, Stiles just snickers and shoves him toward the fight going on.  
Repressing a howl that forms in his chest, Derek stands up, his red eyes flashing on the kitsune that had threatened his best friend.  
At least, Stiles thinks, he thinks about how to attack something that is somewhat new to him. Unlike everybody else who just throws their bodies at Ben. We are going to have to work on that.  
Satisfied that he is not going to be attacked from behind by a crazed were cat/fox thing, Stiles focuses his energy on standing up. He silently prays thanks to whoever thought to get his real katanas instead of his practice sticks. Most likely it was Derek, seeing as Scott is always to focused on killing anything than most people in this pack. But, sadly, these pieces of art on steroids are not being used as their original purpose was intended. Instead of chopping limbs off and such, they are instead being used as a sort of crutch to support the wobbly mass of flesh that is currently Stiles at the moment.  
Ignoring the shouts of pain and surprise from the over all clattering and growling that he associates with anything his pack is fighting, Stiles slowly makes his way up onto his feet, only falling a grand total of twice.  
But as he stands, he almost falls over from shock as Isaac falls to the ground in a heap before him, wheezing with laughter. Laughter, because of the way Derek has taken to beating his fellow enemy. By grabbing him by the legs and spinning around in a circle, allowing his betas to take swipes where they will and 'accidentally' knocking Ben's head against a tree or two. Maybe three.  
Stiles ignores the awful sounds Isaac is choking out of his throat and focuses on unsheathing his twin katanas, the slight shing of metal rubbing against polished wood echoing around the clearing, Ben's ears twitching in Stiles' direction.  
“Oh, so you hear that you filthy bitch?” At Stiles' soft spoken words, Derek lets go of Ben, calmly watching as he flies beautifully across the clearing and slamming to the ground on the roots of a large oak.  
“Mother fucker,” Ben mutters, “that hurt!”  
“Oh look. It can talk.” Derek replies, arms crossed over his chest, his leather jacket and dark jeans giving him the look of a hit-man ready to get paid.  
Ben mutters something under his breath that even the numerous (when I say numerous, I mean all five of them) werewolves can not hear.  
As Derek steps forward, Stiles shakes his head and steps forward himself.  
“What's that? You want to say that again?” Stiles takes his time to get to what his panic addled brain has finally recognized as kitsune.  
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Ben raises onto his hands and knees, his head tilted so he can look around Stiles' knees.  
“Oh look, it understands.” Stiles shoots Derek a glare when he drawls his quote, Derek just raising his eyebrows, motioning his hands as if to say, Well? Get on with it.  
“Next time you try and kill someone or get them to be your evil slave or whatever, make sure they are not able to kill you first. Or have someone else to kill you for them.” Stiles kneels down beside Ben, latching one hand in the curls, right be tween the ears. “Also, make sure they do not have a weapon that can harm you. Like me.” Stiles throws his head back a laughs, the sound reverberating through his throat, which has more than one pair of eyes on it.  
Derek has to tear his eyes away from Stiles' throat to stare at Ben, who is obviously appreciating the wide expanse of throat near his face. But Ben understands the low growl that floats towards him and looks away, his cheeks slightly flushed.  
“Now, back to the point.” The cheer in Stiles' voice is enough to cause even his pack to flinch, all knowing that he is most dangerous when in a good mood with a possible enemy and his favorite pair of swords in hand. As if to prove his point, Stiles brings one of his katanas up to rest against Ben's shoulder juncture, the plane of the blade flashing happily in the sun. Stiles presses down hard enough to bring blood to the surface, the hot liquid steaming in the cool fall breeze, the blade alive in its well earned bath. Watching with detached amusement, Stiles leans forward and presses his lips to the shell of one soft red ear, another throaty chuckle making Ben flinch. Derek quickly looks around the clearing, watching as his betas school their expressions to bland interest as they watch Stiles wrap himself up in his alter ego.  
The laughter leaves Stiles' face, the soft lines of a young adult turning hard, his body stiffening to that of a fighter. But what most shocks everyday people is the way his eyes change. The light happiness hat is there dissipates, until nothing is left but hard chips of frozen amber, the warmth being sucked out by the cold.  
“So,” he all but growls, “work smart, not hard. And cooperate. Especially if the person with a blade at your throat is smart enough to know that kitsune are effected by wolfsbane as much as werewolves and has experience fighting werewolves almost daily.” The now evilly smirking lips rest against the tip of one white capped ear, teeth pulling at soft fur. “Be a good little kitsune and run of until our next meeting in the Mundane world. Bye-bye.” All the werewolves twitch as Ben disappears with a faint pop, Stiles shifting onto his knees instead of leaning over on one hand.  
“Derek,” Stiles turns around, a pleasant smile making warmth flow readily back into his cold face, “when did you decide to come to college with us?”  
Sometimes, Derek thought, Stiles was too smart to be contested with.


	3. Chapter 3

Laura was sitting at a small desk, her cell phone sitting next to her laptop when it started ringing. She smiles as the sound of “Hungry like the Wolf” blasts from the small speakers on the quaintly covered pink phone.   
“Bonjour!” Smiling again as she hears Derek shouting at Stiles to get his paws off his phone, she waits until he has gotten his entire pack under control. “Having any problems while I was gone Derek?”  
“No, just the few dragons, a couple rogue omegas, one or two werewolf packs and a kitsune yesterday.” The background noise of Stiles yelling at Isaac he gets the phone first floats through the speaker and Laura leans away, holding the phone from her ear.  
“Derek.” Silence from the other side of the line at her exasperated sigh.   
He cautiously answers, wheezing slightly. “Yeah?”   
Before she continues, one pedicured hand goes up to the bridge of her elegant nose, pinching it slightly. “Yesterday,” she stresses that word, “was your first day to college. The college that your entire pack goes to. Why, of all things, did you have to drag a kitsune there?”  
“Well, according to Erica, he was here for a year before she got there, and is now a junior like Derek. Hey! No tickling! We talked about this! Now you shall suffer the consequences! Peace out suckers!”   
Laura bites back a snort when she hears Stiles speaking quickly into the phone, listening to the surprised yelps as he undoubtedly unsheathes his wolfsbane infused katanas (she knows for a fact that is exactly what he does because she can hear Scott shouting unfair at the top of his lungs).  
“Back off, you bloodthirsty beasts! I called dibs and you all know it!”   
“Stiles?”  
“Yeah?” Stiles huffs irregularly as he runs through he underbrush surrounding the campus, trying to lose the werewolves.  
“You do realize you are playing a losing game correct?”  
He scoffs in her ear. “Of course I know that. I'm playing who-gets-the-phone-that-has-Laura-on-the-other-end-in-France and the only human in the pack has that phone will most likely die a painful death.”  
She nods her sympathy, forgetting that he can't see her and grabs her shoulder bag as her jet is called to the runway.   
“Well, I have to give it to you Stiles, not many people would dare to steal the phone from Derek's hands and then run away yelling peace over their shoulders after sticking a sword under his nose.” Laura has to give Stiles the credit about being a stupid kid, but he does things his way, and doing things his way means Stiles creativity. She can practically feel the evil smile Stiles does after doing something nasty and her eyes widen in shock. “You did not.”  
“Oh, yes I did. Wait for it in, three, two, one...” Stiles listens intently, waiting just a second more before hearing Laura shudder on the other end of the line.  
“STILES!” Both Laura and Stiles burst out laughing at the anger in Derek's voice as he shouts over all five miles that Stiles had run.  
“He is going to kill you when he figures out a way to get out.” Laura manages to get out between giggles.  
“I know!” Stiles says gleefully, beginning the trek back to Derek's dorm, leaves and sticks crunching under his feet. “He is going to hate me so much. But there are things even Sourwolf can not do, and killing his pack mother is one of those things.”  
Stiles grows silent as he trips again, listening to the hustle and bustle of people on the phone, the roar of plane engines making the noise crackle. Laura pushes past a group of swearing Frenchmen, ordering a caramel latte before moving on, knowing that Joe will wait for her. And so will traffic police if they know what is good for them. As she reaches her gate, she listens to Stiles snickering again as he comes in reach of Derek's glare, his unhappy growl vibrating her phone.   
“Thank you George.” Laura nods to her flight attendant as he takes her bag from her and ushers her through the walkway and into the private jet. She settles herself down again before speaking to Stiles again. “Stiles, dear, I would rather hope to hug you while you are not in a hospital bed again, you know how I love your hugs. Derek, that means, no mutilating, death, or torture, but tickling does not count in the torture factor.”  
“Aw, Laura...” Stiles whines.  
Laura bites her cheek before continuing, knowing too well how Stiles would be looking at her if she was there. His eyes would have stared at her, with a slight watering in them, his lower lip jutting out slightly as she caved easily under his gaze. Then he would have squealed as she pinched his cheek.  
“Stiles...” she whines back. “You should have known where surrounding Derek's dorm room in mountain ash would have gotten you. Dumbass.”  
“Be quiet for a moment. I'm entering the building.” Laura is respectfully quiet as Stiles sweet talks his way past the student guard there, and she snorts as Stiles pulls his puppy dog face, listening to the huff of surrender from the male. Stiles opens the stair door with a creak, and his voice is once again seeping through the phone, this time in a whisper.  
“I have entered the premises, the target is soon to be in sight. Control, should I attempt to speak with the target or go on a steeplechase with said target.”  
“Stiles, you are digging yourself even deeper into the hole you are in now, you know that right?” Laura idly flips through a magazine as her jet taxis out to the runway, hearing the slight hum of approval Stiles gives her.  
“True, but I enjoy living dangerously.”   
“Yeah, Derek growling like an overgrown Persian kitten definitely has me convinced of that Stiles. Tell Derek I will land somewhere around noon on Tuesday. I will drive myself, thank you. Should I be expected at the Hale house or the dorms?”  
“Derek shut up, not everybody has your super hearing.” The growling slowly tapers off into a low hum. “Thank you very little dumbass. We will all be expecting you to be at the Hale house, although you can bother Derek in some of his classes. I could care less. I will be already home with my dad, yelling at him for his deplorable diet that is not working and has been chucked out the window. Bye Laura, loves.”  
“Loves to everyone. Bye.”   
Laura closes her phone, and leans her head back against the couch, wondering what condition Stiles will be in once she lands and goes to the college. Hopefully nothing too damaging, but who knows with Derek. She smiles another time when she thinks that she knows exactly what is with Derek, having heard the affection in his voice when he had first shouted Stiles' name after finding out about the mountain ash.  
An equally affectionate smile ghosts across her lips when she thinks about Stiles' reaction if he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel awful. I had decided to update on Friday's but then my plan went to Hell because of school so now I am just going to update whenever I am bodily able to.   
> Disclaimer: I still do not own Teen Wolf or Phantom *sigh*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles hangs up the phone after Derek's good-bye, staring at him laughingly. Stiles raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, obviously forgetting that he is laying across Derek's bed with barely any clothes on looking like he wants to get jumped by slightly antisocial werewolves. As the thought runs through Derek's head, he turns an alarming shade of red before choking and throwing any clothes he finds that are his and do not smell too bad, rushing out the door with a choked, “Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: this chapter was completed the night before a large math test and the ending is awful because I refused to get off the computer when told to go to bed and had to rush so I would not get grounded or whatever. So please, bear with me, even if it is a tiny bit.

Snickering as they hear Derek's groan of annoyance as his alarm goes off, his pack grimaces in understanding as he groans again, realizing why he was in a strange room.   
He was the one who decided to come back to college to finish his major in music. Well, he was not the one who shoved him out of bed and told him he needed to get a life and suggested college. Laura could get her way very well with a well placed word and a ducked blow.  
So because of his sister that he was now cursing vehemently in his room, Derek was rolling slowly out of his warm bed, reaching around for something to smash his clock with. As he rubs sleep out of his eyes with a large yawn, Derek is grateful that he has the only one person room in his three story dorm on campus. His roommate would be in a funk after watching him wake up, his hair stuck in little tufts on the top of his head, his broad chest bare. They would die cooing over him.  
“You guys do know I can smell you right?” The low snickers outside his door stop and he hears Erica swearing before barging into his room.  
“Morning!” She chirps, watching as he just sighs when the rest of his pack streams in, making themselves at home in his room. Stiles waltzes in last, sporting a bruise or two on his arms after his encounter with Ben. A howl deep inside him clamors to be let out but he saves it for later when he and the pack need to stake their territory. Grumbling under his breath, Derek leaves his friends to fight over who gets which spot of floor and after pulling on a pair of sweats, walks out of his room to the communal baths.   
“Hey Derek.” Derek winces as his name is drawn out by his least favorite person, Taylor.  
Hiding a grimace as he turns around to face her, immediately almost choking on a whiff of desire so thick it could almost be musk. A fake smile is plastered on his face, revealing no sparkly teeth or whatnot, ignoring the way Taylor is posing against her door frame.   
“Hi Taylor. Convenient how we always meet up at the exact same time each morning in front of the guys bathroom.” She pushes herself off the door and walks right into his personal space, placing a hand on the wall in front of him, her forearm barring his way. Derek has a horrible flashback to Kate doing the exact same thing to him and he shudders slightly and he hears a swear in his room.  
Taylor leans closer to him and he forces out another smile before pushing past her to the men's room door.  
“Sorry, for that.” She must not realize how her voice grates against his ears, and he hears Isaac and Scott snickering on the floor of his room as two pairs of feet pad to the door. Boyd just bursts out laughing as two of the most troublesome members poke their heads out of the door, staring innocently down the hall.  
“Is everything all right Der?” Erica glares at Taylor, ignoring the fact that her blond hair is messed up, the long locks in playful tangles and her lipstick smeared to one side.  
Derek stares in horror as Stiles falls past her, his less scarred side of his lithe chest facing them, clad in nothing but his jeans that have been deprived of their belt, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, his V prominent in the lazy morning light.   
A husky laugh bubbles past his lips as he runs a hand through his already mussed up hair and says in a low voice, his eyes half lidded, “Oh, he's fine by the looks of it, we might be too eager for him.” Erica leans out farther, revealing her dressed in, dear god, nothing but a lacy black bra and her jeans also hanging low on her hips.   
Mortified by the looks both are giving Derek, he takes the opportunity to slip past Taylor, who is staring at the two scantily clad forms in front of her, into the bathroom. But not quick enough to hear Erica's reply.  
“But he seemed to like it last night. He was plenty eager to teach us some new tricks.”  
Leaning against a vanity, Derek breathes slowly in and out as he hears Scott, Isaac and Boyd laughing their asses off in his room, keeping their muffled laughter down so Taylor can not hear them.  
“What did I get myself into? Laura will find this amusing. So therefore, I must make sure that nobody tells her of this.” Derek freezes as he hears a phone ringing in his room, his blood turning cold. “Fuck. Fucking fuckers.” He breathes out through his nose, now in frustration as he paces the length of the room.   
“Holy shit.” Taylor's reverent murmur alerts Derek to something else happening outside in the hall. So he does the stupidest thing possible and opens the door, watching horrified as Erica growls when Stiles leans down and nuzzles her neck, pinning her to the wall next to his door. He manages to choke out a small noise when Stiles grabs both of Erica's wrists in one hand and raises them above her head, smiling satisfied as she writhes beneath him. The golden beams of sun make his brown hair shimmer, his pale white skin turning golden, his throat exposed and gorgeous in the light. It also does not help the fact that most of the hall's occupants have looked outside at the commotion and are now staring as Stiles is ravaging Erica outside of Derek's door.   
Derek hears a soft murmur further down the hall and it turns his blood a confusing mixture of hot and cold slush.   
“Who is that piece of sexy god? Seriously, hit me up with some of that. I am game.”  
More people speak as if that one comment broke the dam of silence that was hovering over the hall.  
“I want some.”  
“I am so game.”  
“I call dibs.”  
“Is he single? Please tell me he is single.”  
And the most terrifying sound on earth, that just so happens to float out of his bedroom. Laura is laughing, the tinny voice from Scott's cheap phone reaching Derek's horrified ears. “So what is my little friend doing now that is making Derek red in the ears?”  
Isaac pokes his head out of the door, ducking when Taylor chokes at the sight of another adorably mussed up person in Derek's room and replies, “Yep. He has that horrified look. Remember that one time when that reincarnated Egyptian god came to Beacon Hills thinking it was a nice place to put his palace? Well the look Derek gave Apophis has nothing, nothing, on the look Derek has on now.” The loud sound of a happy cackle interrupts Stiles and he lazily looks up from Erica, barely out of breath unlike his friend, and stares straight at Derek, one corner of his red mouth turned up at the corner, a look of utmost amusement on his face. Before Stiles can open his mouth and announce anything to Derek's dorm floor, he has rushed past Taylor, grabbed both Erica and Stiles by the waistband of their jeans and tugged them into his room. But he was not fast enough to stop Stiles from speaking.  
“He is definitely like a puppy. We must keep this one.”  
As Derek throws his bedroom door shut, he can hear the thumps of bodies against the wood, the scent of desire and arousal thick in the air. He is not the only one that chokes.  
“You know, this may be the time that I am grateful I am human, you unworthy peasants.” Derek turns to see Stiles draped across his bed, practically flaunting how good he looks like a trophy, with all his pale skin and shiny scar tissue.  
Fighting back a growl for all the laughing betas on his floor, he grinds out words between his teeth. “So you all decide that I can not deal with one girl and you make everyone on my floor think I doing it group style? And you had to call Laura to boot?”  
“Come on Der, we just wanted to see your face.” Stiles snorts at his other alphas words. Scott just glares at him before continuing. “And, as I was going to say, it is the day before break for you, you needed your life to have a bit of excitement in it. It was all Isaac.”   
At Isaac's shocked and scared face and squeals, Derek just huffs.  
“See you later Laura.” Stiles hangs up the phone after Derek's good-bye, staring at him laughingly. Stiles raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, obviously forgetting that he is laying across Derek's bed with barely any clothes on looking like he wants to get jumped by slightly antisocial werewolves. As the thought runs through Derek's head, he turns an alarming shade of red before choking and throwing any clothes he finds that are his and do not smell too bad, rushing out the door with a choked, “Bye.”  
Scott and Isaac barely look up from where they are entangled on the floor, and Erica, Boyd and Stiles wait until Derek has fought past the rush of humans before bursting out laughing again.   
“Did- did you see his face?” Erica manages to speak through hiccups and Boyd just nods his head shaking uncontrollably.   
“Hey. Hey!” Stiles throws a pillow at Scott, catching him in the head. “Did we really look that bad?” Scott justs shakes his head in amazement, running a hand down Isaac's back, making him shiver.  
“Dude, it was the exact opposite. You may be human Stiles, but I would not have been surprised if you could have smelt the desire coming off the people on this floor. Erica just made it worse by whimpering.” Stiles shoots Erica an apologetic look and rolls onto his stomach, a maniacal glint in his eyes.  
“Say, what do you think Derek would do if we just so happened to come to his room every morning, making his life on this side of campus as embarrassing as possible? With a few more, let us call them, episodes?” Erica starts laughing even harder than before, clutching her stomach, ignoring the fact that Boyd is rubbing a hand between her shoulder blades.  
“Oh. We would die, naturally little bro. But it would be worth it. Completely worth it.”   
They all burst out laughing again at that, settling down for a long nap in Derek's room.  
.  
For the rest of the day, Derek heard rumors about the golden god in the junior dorm room who just so happened to be a freshman and Stiles Stilinski to boot. During his Musical Theory and Composition class, his phone buzzed with a text from Ninja White Boy. With a sigh, Derek opened the text and tried to look like he was paying attention to the lecture.  
Bro, why is every single girl that is a junior and above coming up to me and asking if I can make them happy?  
Derek takes a couple of notes before replying.  
I think I saw one of the girls video taping it with her phone. Now you know what it is like to be a famed sex god on two legs.  
Seeing the guy next to him glare at him, Derek sheepishly put his phone away until the end of class, taking his time for his next class which was in the biology hall. Thank god it did not start until one. Too bad he was not going back to his dorm room after catching a whiff of at least half his pack there when he went by, scoping it out.  
But I never wanted to become a prostitute! Whatever happened to being the white nerdy boy that was unpopular and weird?  
Derek laughs at Stiles' reply.  
You started hanging around with us Stiles, when do you think you became popular...even though you do not have a leather jacket.  
Touche. Also, I do not have a leather jacket because I do not exactly have a spare chimera to kill and use as a coat.  
Touche, touche, you cannot touch my touche. Be happy I am not there to start singing in your ear.   
I should hope. Bye, Erica is getting hyper.  
Serves you right.  
After Derek sends the last message with a scowl, an all too familiar scent washes over him. Expensive European perfume, a slight scent of cinnamon and burnt citrus.   
“No.” Derek whispers, knowing she will hear him. “Its too soon.” Musty paper and charcoal. Envelope glue and a sliver of salty tears, probably from a minion tired from fear and exhaustion.  
A clear female voice echoes across the common he was previously crossing, stopping him in his tracks. “And I thought you would be happy to see me Der-Bear. Apparently I was wrong."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, but I believe the next chapter is going to be longer so...and anyway, long weekend up ahead, two halfdays, and a new semester which means less work for the first week or two! Happiness! :D

Deaton was not that happy to see them that autumn day to say the least. A full schedule of appointments and here Derek was, dragging with him Isaac and Erica, both of whom where supporting a very delirious Stiles between them. But the scowl disappeared as Derek and his betas winced in pain as Stiles groaned, his head lolling limply from side-to-side. His usual zen-like state of being was wrapped around the vet and he murmured quietly to himself as he lead them to the back room.   
Many memories where there for all three, but those where pushed away as they all felt fear at the exact same time. Soon enough, Deaton was surrounded by the entire pack, Scott and Boyd having rushed over from lacrosse practice. The only reaction they where given to raised hackles was a raised eyebrow and a frown as Stiles was looked over calmly.  
“He appears to have no physical harm, but by the way all of you are acting and the way Stiles is acting, I must assume here, that you are now all connected telepathically.” His voice washed through the fear and they all looked at Deaton in confusion, watching as Stiles shifted on the examination table, mumbling incoherently under his breath.   
“What do you mean, 'connected telepathically'?” Erica forced out, having clenched her teeth in what was probably Derek's anger.   
“Connected telepathically as in, you can all share emotions, like you are doing flawlessly right now,” an arm is waved at their various stages of digression, from anger to confusion. “and, if you work to it and you want it, you should all be able to exchange thoughts. Mind speech, so to speak.”  
“Cool, just what I needed. Why am I strapped to this table and why is anger coursing through my veins so readily?” They all turn to see Stiles struggling against said straps, his face contorted in a scowl mirroring the one on Derek and Erica's faces.   
Deaton went to go and check on Stiles while Scott murmured under his breath to Derek and Erica, “Get it under control.” With a pointed look at Derek.  
Derek scowled and repressed his anger as much as he could, noticing the difference in Stiles as the tense shoulders facing him relaxed greatly.   
“This could pose a problem.” Everybody but Deaton turned to Isaac, startled by his soft-spoken words.  
“Oh, you mean anymore than it is now?” Stiles snapped. With a shocked look on his face, he immediately apologized. “Sorry bro, not my anger. Well, some of it may be, because fuck, my dad is going to murder me. But anyway, yeah. Blame Derek. Most of it is radiating from him. Or at least it was.”  
Deaton gives Stiles another raised eyebrow and speaks calmly, “At least the other human is getting the main idea of this. He will be better at this than most of you.”  
"Joy. I'm connected to Stiles for the rest of my life. What did I do to deserve this?" Scott shakes his fists at the sky, not noticing Isaac's smile turning into a scowl.  
Stiles struggles to rip the straps off his chest with increasing panic, his breath coming in short gasps. Isaac steps forward and rips them off, tearing the fabric. Stiles continues to panic, his breathing coming faster and faster until he is in a full scale panic attack. Deaton looks around the room, taking in how some of the pack reacts more than others, like Boyd and Isaac, and how others stand there scowling (cough, cough, Derek). Isaac leans against the table, the cool metal pressing against his hips, and he extends shaky arms around Stiles' shoulders and under his knees, pulling him off the table. Derek breathes faster like Stiles when Isaac, still cradling the slightly calmed Stiles against his chest, sits down on the floor in the corner, rubbing his hand up and down Stiles' back soothingly, his mouth pressed gently against Stiles' temple.  
Everybody just looks on as Stiles slowly calms down, sagging limply against Isaac's chest, his long fingered hand clutching the front of Isaac's shirt. Stiles lays limp against him, his eyes closed and everybody notices when the powerful feeling of embarrassment is taken from their minds, the sharp scent remaining. Isaac continues holding Stiles as he falls asleep easily, his hand falling into his lap, resting against Isaac's stomach. When Derek steps forward, Isaac barely looks up, focusing on the teen in his lap. Deaton watches amused as Derek advances on the two, blocking the light. Nobody expects Derek to kneel down and sit next to Isaac, pressing their shoulders close and taking Stiles and laying him out on both of their laps. Stiles hums quietly and snuggles into their warmth, one arm looping around Derek's waist and his face pressed against his abdomen, Isaac laying his arms over the legs sprawled on his legs, occasionally twitching in dreams.  
The rest step forward at their leisure, Scott coming first and Boyd last. Derek surprises them all again by leaning his head against Isaac's shoulder, the bottom half of his legs taken up by Erica, Boyd taking the bottom half of Isaac's. Scott has sprawled himself over Isaac, falling on Stiles' stomach, his uneven jaw pressed in the gap between Derek and Isaac's bodies. The entire pack relaxes around their two alphas, forgetting where they are and who they are with, all falling asleep with happiness in their relative futures, each dream melding with each other's, two of the six skillfully blocking their dreams and hopes from everybody else, although they all could probably smell the affection coming off in waves.  
Deaton smiles at the sight of the Beacon Hills pack, usually so serious and fighting, all cuddled up in the corner of his operation room in the afternoon, all sleeping around the most important person in their pack.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben comes back and stirs up the pot, and therefore, the pack gets protective and all growly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully a longer chapter, and if I do not fail my classes or die from nervousness I might, BIG might here people so do not hold anything to me, possibly be posting another chapter soon. I got distracted for all of you wondering T.T Curse school and all the projects that are annoying *vengeful shake of fist to universe*
> 
> By the way, the words betweent the astrixes (*) are supposed to be the mind speech between the pack, but I am struggling VERY MUCH to get them to be spaced like proper speech is betweent the quotation marks. Stupid computer, WORK!

Stiles freezes, a feeling of terror washing over him that has nothing to do with his Economy essay due at the end of break. He frowns, focusing in on the terror, pulling and stretching the feeling until he can identify the signature to the emotion. Surprisingly, the terror belongs to Derek. And when Derek is feeling scared or whatever, you must be even more scared. So when the feeling escalates, Stiles grimaces at the raw power and falls out of his chair trying to get to the door. Scott is not in the dorm, which is to be expected at this time of day, and his papers float down to the ground, crackling at the sudden movement.  
As he races down the stairs, Stiles ducks under a numerous amount of girls ranging from freshmen to seniors, avoiding their pleas and moving to Derek and his fear.  
So naturally, Stiles being Stiles, when he reaches Derek and his fear with the rest of the pack running from different directions, but, Stiles notices, not as soon as he had left his dorm. Another aura washes over Stiles as he nears Derek, a feminine back facing him and Derek's usually tan face pale in the afternoon light. Stiles speeds up when he realizes who it is, his arms pumping and his legs burning.  
He leaps into the air with a playful growl, landing square on her back extracting a snarl from her in return. The back underneath him vanishes and Stiles lands on the balls of his feet, already pulling his practice sticks out and thrusting above him while he rolls around to face her. He barely notices when Derek tells the crowd that has formed that this is just a club demo. No, it is not the karate club, what kind of question was that?  
But Stiles refocuses on the wall of muscle slamming into him and he defensively parries with his sticks, blocking multiple blows and strikes, returning with a few of his own. His attacker must notice that he has improved in his skills and snarls again, the contrast of red lips and white teeth startling. But not enough to startle Stiles as he throws one of his practice sticks at her knees, running up to her front and when she lunges for him, jumping over her and raising the stick to beat her on the back. She purposely falls to the ground, one of her heeled feet catching around his ankle and pulling him down with her. He copies her and snarls, striking at her hand as she rips his shirt from the collar down the front, hoping to scratch her nails against his chest. But the fight soon devolves from full fledged sparring to them wrestling on the cold ground, both oblivious to the twenty degree weather, neither wearing jackets.  
But, to both of their amusement, Derek and Scott decide to take it into their own hands and show their alpha control.  
Derek goes for Stiles, pinning him the ground, ducking when Stiles works free a hand and tries to hit him on the back of the head. Scott goes for a more adult approach and holds out a hand to the woman on the ground, a pleasant smile working its way into his adorable face.  
"Hi Laura. Why was Derek so terrified that you were here?" Stiles grunts, attempting to roll Derek over so he can get him in a headlock before Derek does the same to him.  
With a small chuckle, Laura stands in front of the two wrestling boys, shaking her head. "I got here, like I told Erica, early because I detoured my flight so I could get here early. And what do I get as a welcome? Stiles attacking me and Derek being a child."  
Having succeeded in the headlock to Stiles, Derek glances up at his name, he looks at his older sister, completely ignoring the fact that Stiles is biting him on the forearm, and speaks calmly as blood starts to trickle into the grass. "No sign of Peter?"  
"Nope, the dickwad."  
Derek nods and looks down, seeming to realize what Stiles is doing to his arm. "I liked these pants."  
"Whpell, mow fey are shoaked in blood sho you chant exchacthly wear shem."  
"Stiles, what have I told you about talking with your mouth full?"  
"Sorry Laura." Stiles spits out some brilliant red blood onto the green grass, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. With an angry look at Derek, Stiles continues. "This chit here decided it was going to be fun to be terrified of his own sister and by the way dude, you taste fucking awful. I'm serious. You taste like shit. When was the last time you took a shower?"  
Derek ignores the question and stands up, pulling Stiles up by the scruff of the neck, not noticing, or choosing to ignore again, the flailing limbs that decide to smack into his body.  
"Professor Lundy will not mind if I skip this class. Let's go."  
Isaac, Scott and Boyd cheer as Erica slips her arm into Laura's pulling her into the front of the procession, the trio chatting amicably in the middle, Derek and Stiles taking up the rear. Laura and Erica forge through the crowds of people excited to get home for the winter break, their laughs echoing down the line to Derek and Stiles.  
A trickle of sweat runs down the back of Stiles' neck and it cools quickly in the air, Stiles oblivious to how his shirt front is flapping in the wind, the cloth torn from Laura's nails. Laura watches as each girl that crosses their path swerves around the front of the group but purposely walks in front of Stiles and Derek, glancing hopefully at Stiles. *So, is anybody going to tell me I can't commit murder or are you going to be good to me?* Laura chuckles as Derek immediately snarls at a girl crossing in front of him, being overly protective of the pack mother next to him. *Stiles, what would your dad say if he found you at another crime scene with multiple deaths?* Isaac laughs, getting a confused look from Laura. *Scott, calm down, I was not actually going to kill anyone. Yet.* Stiles mind speaks easily with his pack, not having to focus as much as the rest, talking with them as if he was talking out loud. A mind hums across his and Stiles glares at Derek. *Dude, what have we told you about doing that. Privacy is almost an emotion and searching for other peoples emotions without permission is rude.* Scott, Boyd and Isaac do not reply to Stiles and with a frown, he realizes that he did a private chat stream with Derek. So he experiments. *Scott.* *Yeah bro?* Nodding his head, Stiles speaks aloud for Laura to hear, speaking quietly enough that nobody passing by will understand. "So it seems that if you concentrate enough on one person, you can create a private chat with that one person." Almost everybody starts when Derek mind speaks. *We should practice, right Scott?* *Yes.* Ever since Derek had agreed to the idea of a more stable pack with more than one alpha providing more than one powerful voice to pack decisions and such. And when Deaton said it would prove smart to do so, Derek and Scott both swore to each other, Stiles watching on as a witness. *Cool, I'm hungry, let's hurry up.* Isaac grabs Scott and Boyd's hands and speeds up, bypassing Laura and Erica in the process. Stiles moans, taking Derek's hand and tugging him violently along, Derek walking along amused at his antics. *I can just about taste Boyd's famous pancakes. Oh my goodness, that is what we are having for dinner.* Stiles' stomach growls in agreement and everybody laughs. Boyd speaks this time looking confused but relaxed. "Laura?" "What Stiles?" "You want to have Boyd's famous pancakes for dinner?" "Hell yes." With a cheeky smile, Stiles lays out his hand. *That was easy was it not?* At this point, they have successfully crossed the campus and nobody has died or been attacked by supernatural beings, but Derek has a bad feeling. Everybody stops when he whirls on Stiles as Stiles freezes, Derek's nose twitching. "Stiles." "Wha- holy shit!" Stiles exclaims loudly when Derek pushes him up against a tree, his nostrils flaring. Erica steps forward, a growl echoing in her throat before Boyd pushes an arm across her chest, stopping her. But the arm was unneeded from the look of fear on Stiles' face. They all stare, Laura included, at the look of fear that seems misplaced. It may be on a certain face, but it is not the one that belongs. Derek snarls, anger seeping into his face and he shoves his nose into the juncture of neck and shoulder, breathing deeply. When he back off slightly, his eyes flash an alarming shade of alpha red. “What did you do to him?” The low words are growls, and a mask of calm is wrenched down. At the slight snicker, Derek slams him hard against the tree, the feeling of magic flickering slightly. “Let me ask again, what did you do to him?” A nasty chuckle seeps into the air and they continue to stare as the face they love is twisted unnaturally into a sneer. “Oh, honey, I didn't do anything to him. He took what was mine and now I need it back.” the doppleganger flinches when Scott steps behind Derek, his eyes flashing a shade of red a bit lighter than Derek's blood-stain ones, growling in his throat. “You.” Derek's eyes open wide in realization and he slams Copy-Stiles against the tree hard enough that the illusion flickers, the form of Ben in front of him before he reigns in his magic. Then, a small, knowing smile is on those full lips of Stiles, the face leaning forward until his and Derek's noses brush and whispers, “Me. Catch me if you can.” They all leap forward at the now familiar pop of displaced air, Derek's clenched hands closing tightly around Ben's throat before he falls into the tree. “Hey. All of you,” Erica growls in her throat as everybody continues to talk over the most sensitive member in their pack. “thanks for the attention. But I do believe that if you all shut up, I will be able to hear Stiles.” They all stop talking, trying to calm the constant hum of their magic as Isaac closes his eyes and focuses deeply, not twitching as Laura steps forward and channels her wild energy into him, Erica doing the same before they all step forward, with their hands on some part of Isaac's torso. *Stiles?* *Help* the hum that is usually so powerful brushes against the edge of his mind and he lunges forward, grasping it and not letting go. *Stop!* at the exclamation, Isaac frowns and lets go a little with his magic, stopping when Stiles speaks quickly if quietly. *This jackass took me out of my nice walk and brought me here. He choked my magic and awareness and now I believe I am locked in a janitors closet? But anyway, I am very weak because of that bastard, do not tell Allison this, or Derek for that matter, Gerard. Dick. But, stop worrying about that and come help me, Ben is coming back. And fuck. I am in the old wing of the school, third floor, old auditorium. Please hurry.* And just like that, the link is severed. A sharp look in his eyes, Isaac turns to where Stiles had indicated and starts of with the rest of the pack behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody dies, Stiles gets what he wants, and people are slightly scared of what Stiles is going to do. And some magic fills the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! I did not die from nervousness yesterday, but was too tired to post T.T But I have figured out how to better do the mind speaking between the pack, thank god, so happiness is flooding my system right now. So, so happy. Now then, does anybody know how to do italics? I am incompetent at these things so...

A soft voice whispers in his ear, but with his eyes squeezed shut and his body wracked in pain, all he can do is try to not start whimpering. A door opens and closes, two shadows flitting across the backs of eyelids before it shuts, a click telling him he has been locked in. All Stiles can do is lay on the cold floor and try not to move. So naturally he starts to twitch. After he bites his split lips hard enough that he actually does whimper at the pain lancing through his body, he relaxes, focusing on pulling his magic out of Ben's grasp.

A light brush against his head makes him jerk up, moaning out loud as his body reacts badly to that sudden movement. Stiles reaches down, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and winces when he runs his hand down his left side, finally figuring out why it is so hard to breathe. His fingers dip down with his skin, two of his ribs dislocated in his body. Luckily enough, both are the ones at the bottom of his ribs cage and not puncturing a lung...too badly. Another light brush against his mind is all it takes to recognize the signature. 

Isaac's concern and worry pushes the pain aside for a moment and Stiles relishes in it, feeling the undercurrents of the rest of the pack as they amplify his range and reach.  
*Stiles* the voice is soft and smooth, mainly Isaac speaking but Stiles can tell that all of them are speaking with him, most likely not noticing it.

He gathers up the powers that have been slowly trickling back to him, and with a gasp as his side moves, replies. *Help*

A rush of power floods his fragile mind, trying to pull him back to them, but white dances across his vision, threatening him silently. He shouts out to them and vocally, finding a reservoir of strength and fights back the pain and panic to tell them what happened. But not all of it, god no. If Derek found out, or even Scott, Ben would die. And Stiles needs to negotiate a little something from him, because he has done the math and knows it is possible. Just not for him. But he continues to tell Isaac where he is and soon a light footstep lands in front of the locked door. He shuts off the power, breaking off the communication with a quick stab of fear rushing through him when he does. He has never felt so alone. 

White light washes over his dilated eyes and he groans, shutting them against the sight of an all too familiar pair of booted feet. A swish of fabric alerts him to the sudden movement and Stiles coughs as the boot catches him in the chest. Blood bubbles over his lips and he coughs again, trying to clear the path to his lungs. Stiles has no doubt in his mind that he has a punctured lung, maybe even some internal bleeding. A rough chuckle reaches his ears and a hand wipes the blood away with false gentleness. Too bad the voice continues to form words.

“It was so nice of you to catch up Stiles. I had missed the little times we had together with Erica and Boyd so close. I just had to finish what I had started though. But the only restriction was not to kill. I enjoy doing business with you Stilinski. Keep in touch.” Warm lips press against his forehead, hands cradling his broken and bleeding face. Stiles flinches away from the touches, remembering with the dull aches and sharp pains in his body, what those hands can do. Another chuckle grates against his ears and he hears Gerard straighten, tapping the floor with the metal pipe slick with Stiles' blood.  
Stiles closes his eyes in relief as he hears the door close, a loud humming in his ears allowing him to focus on something other than the pain. 

But when he hears Ben's voice on the outside of the door, berating Gerard, the hum gives a heavy kick. Slowly, as the flash of pain from his jerk, Stiles realizes that the hum is not a white noise in his ears. It is actually coming from him.  
But as he frowns, the hum builds and he jerks again in pain, the blood rushing to his ears and he eels as if his head is going to explode. With a gasp that accompanies another jerk, Stiles recognizes why the hum is so familiar. It is the same thing he feels, except a lot stronger, when he talks to Isaac and his pack with his mind.

A thought strikes him when he feels the hum washing over him and ebbing like a wave. If he is magic, then that means the door can not exactly do anything to protect itself. 

Another, different hum builds in his chest, like a warm cat has curled up on his chest and has fallen asleep content and happy. Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on listening, and the magic bends to his will, allowing him to hear things he should not be able to. That is when he hears a skitter of claws against the concrete at the end of the hall. But then more feet pound against the ground on the outside, the familiar huff of Scott and the silent swish of Derek's jacket, Isaac's concerned whine in the back of his throat and Erica and Boyd's growls. The warmth builds as the claws on the outside of the door come closer and Stiles recognizes the familiar hum of magic beneath the two peoples skin. And after he recognizes that, he recognizes Gerard's sick, black magic beneath his skin approaching the people from the front. They both step back with a gasp and when Stiles feels Gerard right outside the door, Stiles screams.

The magic inside him bunches up and rushes out of him in a tidal wave, his back arching off of the ground, the door the main focus of energy. It shivers in the frame before rocketing off its hinges, Gerard being knocked down with a surprised shout. Stiles slumps back to the concrete, blood leaking slowly out the corner of his mouth as a person cautiously walks into the storage room on the left wing of the stage.

“I'm not going to hurt you. I know who you are.” Stiles manages to croak, breathing hard as his magic bunches in side of him again, a groan slipping past his lips as it focuses around his injured areas.  
“Well then Stilinski, should I kill him or wait for them?”  
“Jackson,” Stiles lolls his head to face Jackson and ignores the gasp he emits as he catches sight of his face. Lydia growls behind Jackson, focusing the sights of her rifle on the pile of rubble Gerard is buried under, her finger twitching around the trigger.  
“Yep,” Jackson nods his head, glaring at the rubble, “this bitch is dying slowly.” And with that, Jackson shifts, his blue eyes alight in a happiness that Stiles had rather hoped he would not see as Jackson drags Gerard out of the pile. “Lets dance, old man.”  
Lydia laughs as Gerard groans, and Stiles winces as his ribs shift over too far in his body.  
“Stiles?!” the shout attracts his attention because he recognizes Scott and Derek's melded tones, both holding concern and worry.

*Hurry up, Ben might come back and Jackson and Lyds can only do so much to protect me from Gerard.*

Derek growls in his head and all of them burst into the top of the auditorium, immediately focusing in  
on Jackson as he slams Gerard against the floor with a gleeful cackle.  
“Stiles?” Isaac asks concerned, craning his neck to find him. 

*Over here.* With the statement to them all, Stiles sends up a flare of magic, the ozone smell like a silent beacon to the wolves.

They all run down, Derek jumping and rolling onto the stage, rushing to get to Stiles. A shout of pain in front of him causes them all to skid to a stop as two forms materialize in front of them. 

“Well, this is all lovely and dearing, but I do need something of mine back, and this little one,” Ben shakes Stiles, ignoring the groan that Stiles bites back. “won't tell me where he put it.” Ben advances, holding Stiles in front of him like a shield, pulling both of them into the light the stage filters down. 

Erica growls at the already forming bruises on Stiles' face, and Derek growls as he notes the way Stiles hunches over on one side and the way that blood is still leaking out the corner of his mouth. Scott steps forward, his eyes already flashing red but Derek slams an arm across his chest, holding his own eyes back. 

Ben chuckles and shakes Stiles again, not getting the same groan out of him as before.  
“What do you want?” Isaac practically growls out, his teeth clenched.  
“That, is an easy question. He,” another shake, but this time Stiles frowns instead of groans, glancing at his ribs, “has my starball, and I want it back.”  
Derek glares at Ben before giving a look to Stiles that says it all. *You should have known better from the last time you tried this with a kitsune. A starball Stiles? Really?*

Stiles just gives an evil little grin before straightening in Ben's grasp, ignoring the five tails swishing the backs of his legs and the claws scraping against his skin.  
“Maybe if you ask nicely, you could get it back.”  
Ben glares at Stiles, tightening his grip. “Oh really?”  
Stiles laughs, his eyes flicking over to Jackson and Lydia, shaking his head in mirth. “Nope. Now I suggest you let go of me before I smash something important.”  
Ben immediately lets go and steps away, almost shoving Stiles away from him. Derek and Isaac catch Stiles before he can fall, his breath hissing out of his raw lips, Derek feeling how Stiles' ribs are indented in his body.  
“Holy shit Stiles...”  
Breathing heavily, Stiles pushes onto his feet but stays in the protective circle of arms.  
“Yeah, that's it Ben, I do have a certain someones starball with me. And I want something like you do.”

Ben glares at him as Stiles reaches into Derek's front pocket, ignoring the tense thighs beneath his fingers and feels around until he finds what he is looking for. He can feel Isaac looking at Derek in confusion, Derek giving him the same look back, pulling Stiles closer to his chest.  
“So, if you know what I mean, we are going to have a little bargain today Yako, you will understand me very well and the first time only.”  
“Stiles?” Derek whispers in Stiles ear, his lips brushing the top of Stiles' ear, his breath gently ruffling his hair.

*I'm getting what would be perfect for a fragile human.* As he had intended, Derek flinches away from him and Stiles uses that to step away from them both, drawing himself up to his full height without a wince. Ben flattens his ears when a silver mist dances over long bruised fingers and arms, the magical aura surrounding Stiles like a cloud, giving off a ghostly glow to his already pale complexion, but also enhancing his cheekbones and the regal bone structure not usually shown in his face by the usual sunlight.

“I will give you your starball back on one condition, and one condition that must be fulfilled if you want this back.” Stiles stares hard at Ben, his laughing eyes going back to the hard chips that comes with his alter ego. Some of the silver mist seeps into Stiles' pale skin, completely eradicating the dark blue and violet bruises, the scoop in his side smooth out, all signs of dislocated ribs vanishing.  
Ben flicks his tails nervously, his eyes flicking from Stiles' eyes and to the silver around him, licking his lips before speaking. “ And that would be?”

Stiles chuckles low in his throat spinning a tennis ball sized clear ball in his hands, watching as his magic stirs up the white mist inside, staring at Ben as he twirls it between his fingers. 

“I, would like a little something that is wolfsbane infused, so I can deal with rogue werewolves and any other assorted supernatural being, and if I get it purple, you get to kiss this baby goodbye.”  
Scott gasps as he realizes what Stiles is hinting at and stares at him with wide eyes. “No.”  
Stiles gives him a laughing smirk, his eyebrows almost in his hairline. “Yes.”  
Scott shakes his head back and forth in horror, whispering silently. 

“So Ben, if you get it wrong, you die. I would like it to be red.” Ben sighs impatiently and Stiles lifts a finger and twirls the starball on it, shaking his head. “I would think I at least deserve a working light saber, and before you start whining, I know it can be made. I have done the calculations, but I, being a human, am not able to actually make it seeing as my hands would burn off and I would bleed out through my eyes. So, you are going to make one, and give it to me, then I shall give you your starball back. Happy? Good. Kill him already Jackson.”  
Jackson looks up from his playtime, a grin fighting its way through the blood splashed on his face. “My pleasure.”  
Stiles spins the starball once more before meandering out of the auditorium, his silver magic lighting the way for him and his pack.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Derek surprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for now on, never take my word on when chapters shall be added, because I am obviously not very good with schedules neither am I good at staying away from books, or writing other fics of mine. Fair warning, not really. I also have no idea where on earth this is going because this was a planned chapter!....until it wasn't....

“Stiles, how many times have I told you to not bring Scott with you to a practice?”  
“Sorry Erica! Scott!” Stiles turns from his spot on stage, yelling down to his friends that are running around the auditorium on the backs of seat and tackling each other.  
“What? Mph!” Stiles shakes his head in rough affection as Boyd jumps on Scott's back, knocking him to the ground.  
“Quit making such a racket! Its not like the choir group has an important show to put on so we can make money or anything!” Stiles continues in his head, *And its not like I have to keep an eye on Ben so he can make me a light saber or anything. So shut up.*  
*Stiles, you just missed an entrance.*  
“Fuck! See Scott and Co.? Quiet down!”  
“Sorry!”  
*My ass.*  
*Stiles.*  
*Holy crap Derek.* Stiles jumps at the low voice in his head, turning back around to his other family.  
“Where were we?”  
Ben gives Stiles an amused look, one eyebrow raised in contemplation of the character before him. “We where lamenting the fact that we do not currently have a proper Phantom of the Opera. So,”  
*Please try not to be shocked. It would be slightly worrying how this colleges 'Golden Sex-God' would act.*  
*Okay,* Stiles frowns at Derek's concerned tone, *now, I am worried beforehand so...*  
Ben continues on, talking to Stiles, knowing that even if he is not listening he will remember later. Probably in a lecture hall or dinner. “So if you would not mind welcoming our Phantom of the Opera.”  
A tall figure emerges from the shadows, Scott, Isaac and Boyd freezing from where they have currently been playing ninja, their noses twitching with looks of confusion on their faces.  
Erica allows her jaw to drop open for a moment before closing it with a click of teeth, Jackson and Lydia both confused at the familiar shoulders padded with muscle.  
Derek steps out of the shadows, his eyebrows thick and his hair gleaming, an amused smile pulling up the corners of, don't go there Stiles, you will regret it, his full lips, his hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans casually. Tight jeans that have molded themselves to his legs perfectly, an equally tight Henley covered by his trademark leather jacket, a white toothed smile blazing its way into the casts good graces. Excluding the few that know him personally. Scott had just emitted a squeak that he would later be denying and Isaac and Boyd are just staring at him, blinking slowly as if unsure that Derek is an illusion or what. Erica has gone from surprised to protective when Amelia sashays her way slowly over to Derek, her flirting face on full blast. Stiles has to bite back a laugh however, when Derek barely looks at her and steps towards himself and Erica, a smile on his face.  
“Damn, and I thought you where not serious about joining.” Stiles speaks without thinking, as usual, and shocks everybody in the room.  
“What?!” Scott practically screeches, ignoring the fact that Isaac has laid a soothing hand on his back.  
Rolling his eyes at Derek's amused huff, Stiles turns around to face his friend once again, hands on his hips as he feels Derek standing behind him.  
“Really Scott? Derek wanted to know how all of us where doing when he wasn't visiting us and we Skyped a few times.” Stiles leaves out the fact that they had ended up talking almost everyday of the week for the first quarter of the year, including texting during one of his more boring classes.  
Andrew, the one with the crooked nose and nice jawline, steps forward skeptically. “You can sing?”  
Derek turns around to face him, one hand gently brushing the back of Stiles' shirt, his eyebrow raised.  
“Why so silent, good messieurs?  
Did you think I had left you for good?”  
Derek stalks away from Stiles, his usual grace being overlapped by a predatory glide, his hands splayed at his sides, his head cocked arrogantly, and a cruel twist to his mouth. He continues to sing in his raw baritone, keeping the spirit light and playful even though he continues to stalk his prey.  
“Have you missed me, good messieurs?  
I have written you an opera.  
Here I bring, the finished score.  
Don Juan Triumphant!”  
Straightening quickly at his exclamation, Derek stares down at Andrew, the cruel smile still on his face when he speaks softly, still in his singing baritone.  
“Did you really think, that a man like you could intimidate me?” He steps forward, smiling in satisfaction when Jack steps in front of Andrew protectively.  
“Fondest greetings, to you all,  
a few instructions before rehearsal starts.”  
Derek turns mockingly to Amelia, smiling a smile that does not reach his eyes. Stiles has to latch onto Erica's shaking shoulder as he begins to wheeze with laughter with her.  
“Carlotta must be taught to act,  
not her normal trick of strutting 'round the stage.”  
Stiles wipes tears from his eyes and watches as Scott and Boyd finally break down next to Isaac, all clutching their stomachs painfully. Ben huffs, and Derek turns towards him, the smile dropping from his face and the hardness coming back.  
“Our Don Juan, must lose some weight,  
its not healthy, in a man of Piangi's age.”  
Stiles drops to his knees at the look on Ben's face, catching the wink that Derek sends him with a smile. And just as suddenly as he had draped the Phantom over him, Derek casts him off, the crinkles around his eyes brightening the mood as he helps Stiles to his feet.  
As Stiles and Erica catch their breath, Derek flashes a false smile to the other cast members and finally speaks in his normal gruff tone.  
“Anybody else doubting if I can sing?”  
Stiles interrupts before anyone can speak.  
“No? Good! I have a father and family to go attend to so while this practice was fun and all, I really must go spend my vacation time elsewhere. Toodles!” And with a cheery wave and smile, Stiles casually walks off the edge of the stage, landing with a slight thump before walking up the aisle and opening the door. When he opens it, Stiles turns back around and gleefully says, “Race you.”  
Erica and Derek run off the stage, rushing to the open door that Stiles is standing in with a challenge in his eyes. Scott, Isaac and Boyd immediately jump up and run after Derek and Erica, watching as Stiles bolts out of the door, the door swinging shut behind him.  
The choir group looks on in disbelief when Derek slams into the door with a grunt, slamming it open and allowing the sound of Stiles' laughter to float into the auditorium, the door taking in a large beating as each werewolf slams it into the wall as they chase after Stiles.


End file.
